Indeed, The Linked-In Problem
by Herr D
Summary: Sometimes modern problems are so absurd, that it just doesn't even seem possible that they are ordinary, run-of-the-mill . . .
1. Chapter 1

_**I can't help but think this story was inevitable. The Forbes article mentioned was not actually in Forbes, but IS out there. And it's WORSE than I explain here. No one have I spoke to (among hundreds) are happy with the current way of doing things. The solution I suggest is not inherently evil, as its origins suggest, but obviously things can go wrong with ANY plan . . . **_

Indeed, The Linked In Problem

Perry White reflected on his newest purchase. Brand new HR software from LexiCorp. He had been stunned and disgusted at the completely incompetent (though surprisingly qualified) applicants sent to him by the latest sham of a candidate selection website. All of them claimed to send great people to the right jobs. None of them ACTUALLY did.

He had almost told his receptionist to send him some UN-qualified people to have better luck, when this NEW company had sent him an e-mail: Do it backwards, they said.

It all sounded perfectly rational. There was a link to that article in _Forbes._ That article he'd only skimmed that explained how the experts who wrote matching algorithms for jobs and dates demonstrably had NO faith that they actually worked. Then they claimed that the problem was the algorithm wasn't an AI.

An AI 'raised by the company' should be the element that was missing. Everything the company ever put in print or espoused in any way would shape it. It would search for anyone who wrote like the company wrote, professionally or otherwise, all across the web. Anyone it found, it would then put out a feeler. Employed? Interested? Recruitable? Relocatable? Etc, etc . . .

White shook his head. Just another way to avoid putting good old human intuition in charge of making a decision. Guts. Guts were something they couldn't put in a computer. Guts couldn't be taught. He needed reporters who had guts like Lane. Typing skills of Kent, enthusiasm of that Olson kid, guts of Lane. THAT's what he needed to find. Maybe an AI could search it up. Google the whole Earth. Why not?

He picked up the phone. "Is it on yet?"

His receptionist paused a moment. "The awards show in Boston or –"

"The damn hiring AI! Is it on yet?"

"The installers just left. If we don't like the first three recommendations the AI makes, we're supposed to call them about a potential reset."

"When does it start making decisions?"

"It's already sent out about a thousand e-mails. The tech department is on the other line. They're worried it'll crash our servers."

"Then tell them to get ready to fix it! That's what we pay them for!" He slammed the phone down. He turned back to his terminal. One e-mail was waiting for him to open. He clicked on it.

It was almost unreadable. Some two hundred random-looking characters with two mostly-intact words in it. 'Out front' with two threes between each 'o' and the next consecutive letter. He picked up the phone again. "Tell them to start with my computer." He slammed down the phone again.

With a shrug, he stood and stormed to the elevator. It was a quick ride down to the lobby, which was a madhouse. People jostling each other out of the way attempting to type at every terminal, arguing over every phone. Hoping the scene had nothing to do with him, he walked through it and out the front door.

Standing hands on hips, tapping an impatient foot, was Lois Lane. Angry-faced, Lane watched him come. He turned slightly so he could see the madhouse in the lobby and dozens of flickering lights up the side of the building, where office lights should have been steady and bright.

Lane glared at him. "You better fix that computer. It takes all written instructions."

White blinked, "Of COURSE it takes written instructions. It's a computer!"

"It doesn't know about context. It doesn't know what NOT to do."

White squinted at her. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't you read my e-mail?"

"I couldn't! It was too garbled! What the HELL are you talking about?!"

Lane pointed at the pavement in front of the building. White groaned.


	2. Chapter 2

Lane pointed at the pavement in front of the building. White groaned. There in faded yellow letters were the words, 'FIRE LANE.'

_**HA! It can't be real short fiction without a punchline. I hope somebody finds a better way. Computers shouldn't be misused to try to make human decisions. BTW, those hiring aptitude tests and industrial psych tests are even MORE off-target. Good luck to all the candidates who were overlooked because those who need people haven't a clue who they really need. I know some of you deserve better jobs than you're getting because I've BEEN in that situation. Hope you enjoyed. Please review. Comments welcome.**_


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